Dear Frankie...
Letter 9
Dear Frankie,
It’s 4:30 am and I smell of borrowed.
I sniff and smell someone else, a musky mixture of tobacco, soap and numbers.
This is what Finn smells like. Don’t ask me what I mean by numbers because you would have to sniff him to understand. That boy just smells like numbers.
And now I’m wondering what I smelled like before I began smelling of borrowed.
My sister Hannah said I smelled like a cello, some ginger and something chemically clean. She’s only five but has the best smelling abilities I’ve seen. She’s the one who first declared Finn smelled like numbers. I’m afraid one day I’ll wake up and she’ll say “Ava smells like a mommy” or something along those lines. Hopefully I won’t start smelling like a mommy and leave before everyone who will be able to tell without the aid of their noses notices.
What do you smell like Frankie? I remember your smell on me but not what you smelled like. I guess it was something along the lines of stale cigarettes, electric cables and something sweet and apple green To be honest I don’t really remember and my nose is just making that up. I guess we mostly smelled of sex and liquor.
Maybe the baby will smell like you when it gets older and loses that kiddie scent and it will be sort of odd. At least for me.
I guess should tell you why I smell like Finn and confess I mostly smell of hospital before you think I’ve fucked him or something, not that you’d care.
I’ll tell you a little about Finn first, so you can understand how important this is for me. Once again, not like you really give a shit or read this.
Finn, like David Bowie, has been blessed with one Aryan blue eye and one gypsy brown eye. I like his brown eye the most. It’s deep and rich, and if Finn cries, which I’ve only seen him done twice in 16 years, his brown eye will get more teary than his blue eye. But what I liked the most about Finn’s brown eye it’s that it was it was the one he used to give me that look. That “I’ll never leave you no matter how fucked up this gets” look. I’d get the look during mass because I would sit to Finn’s right, next to his brown eye. And over the years I learned to understand every gesture of that eye.
With a quick glint I would know if Finn’s dad was hitting the bottle again or if he had bought some pot or if he was just plain bored and had written on e of Blake’s poems on the back of his Bible to alarm his peers during Bible studies.
And now that perfect brown eye I had come to know so well, is gone.
I’ll tell you why it’s gone even though I promised not to because telling you is like talking to the walls; maybe they listen, maybe they don’t but they sure as hell don’t reply.
Sadly Finn has managed to screw up as much as me. He had been fucking with this married woman for months. Then today, the husband comes in, sees them going at it, grabs Finn and beats the living shit out of him. Finn loses his right eye as a result of all the knuckle punching.
And now we’re here, curled up in the hospital bed, foes forgotten and smelling like borrowed, like hospital, like dried blood and like Finn.
I hope you still smell like yourself,
Ava.
It’s 4:30 am and I smell of borrowed.
I sniff and smell someone else, a musky mixture of tobacco, soap and numbers.
This is what Finn smells like. Don’t ask me what I mean by numbers because you would have to sniff him to understand. That boy just smells like numbers.
And now I’m wondering what I smelled like before I began smelling of borrowed.
My sister Hannah said I smelled like a cello, some ginger and something chemically clean. She’s only five but has the best smelling abilities I’ve seen. She’s the one who first declared Finn smelled like numbers. I’m afraid one day I’ll wake up and she’ll say “Ava smells like a mommy” or something along those lines. Hopefully I won’t start smelling like a mommy and leave before everyone who will be able to tell without the aid of their noses notices.
What do you smell like Frankie? I remember your smell on me but not what you smelled like. I guess it was something along the lines of stale cigarettes, electric cables and something sweet and apple green To be honest I don’t really remember and my nose is just making that up. I guess we mostly smelled of sex and liquor.
Maybe the baby will smell like you when it gets older and loses that kiddie scent and it will be sort of odd. At least for me.
I guess should tell you why I smell like Finn and confess I mostly smell of hospital before you think I’ve fucked him or something, not that you’d care.
I’ll tell you a little about Finn first, so you can understand how important this is for me. Once again, not like you really give a shit or read this.
Finn, like David Bowie, has been blessed with one Aryan blue eye and one gypsy brown eye. I like his brown eye the most. It’s deep and rich, and if Finn cries, which I’ve only seen him done twice in 16 years, his brown eye will get more teary than his blue eye. But what I liked the most about Finn’s brown eye it’s that it was it was the one he used to give me that look. That “I’ll never leave you no matter how fucked up this gets” look. I’d get the look during mass because I would sit to Finn’s right, next to his brown eye. And over the years I learned to understand every gesture of that eye.
With a quick glint I would know if Finn’s dad was hitting the bottle again or if he had bought some pot or if he was just plain bored and had written on e of Blake’s poems on the back of his Bible to alarm his peers during Bible studies.
And now that perfect brown eye I had come to know so well, is gone.
I’ll tell you why it’s gone even though I promised not to because telling you is like talking to the walls; maybe they listen, maybe they don’t but they sure as hell don’t reply.
Sadly Finn has managed to screw up as much as me. He had been fucking with this married woman for months. Then today, the husband comes in, sees them going at it, grabs Finn and beats the living shit out of him. Finn loses his right eye as a result of all the knuckle punching.
And now we’re here, curled up in the hospital bed, foes forgotten and smelling like borrowed, like hospital, like dried blood and like Finn.
I hope you still smell like yourself,
Ava.